


Human Custom

by sunwukong



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwukong/pseuds/sunwukong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Durbe and Mizael engage in cultural immersion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Custom

**Author's Note:**

> For the fanworkathon. Prompt: Durbe and Mizael out on a date on Earth.

“This is a frivolous waste of time,” says Mizael, glaring intently at the pristine plates and utensils in front of him.  
  
“Surely it's not so bad,” Durbe replies impassively, shaking out an elaborately-folded cloth napkin and settling it in his lap. “I'm almost certain that you were the one complaining about how I never take you anywhere nice.”  
  
Mizael continues glaring and makes an indignant  _hmph_. Maybe he  _had_  said something like that a while back, when he was ranting to Alit because he'd been having an upsetting day and Vector had been particularly infuriating and Durbe had been holed up doing research, but he hadn't meant anything by it, and he definitely hadn't meant for Durbe to overhear. He knows they have much more important concerns than—this, whatever this is, the two of them visiting Earth for no real compelling reason and sitting across from each other in a fancy-looking restaurant with spotless white tablecloths and human waiters dressed in black vests and bow ties that make them look even more ridiculous than usual.  
  
Not that the two of them look any less ridiculous, in Mizael's opinion.  
  
Durbe had told him,  _Please wear something nice. My usual clothes are perfectly nice,_  Mizael had shot back.  _They're...quite conspicuous,_  Durbe had said. That's the point, as far as Mizael is concerned. They might have to take on these soft, strange human bodies out of necessity, but that doesn't mean Mizael has to look any more like a human than he absolutely has to. But Durbe had insisted, and Mizael never argues any more than he has to with Durbe, so here they are, in button-down shirts and blazers, nice pants and shoes, looking all too inconspicuous and all too much like they belong.  
  
“Don't look so sour,” says Durbe, lowering the leather-bound menu slightly to peer at him over the top. “That's not the kind of expression someone should be wearing on a date.”  
  
 _A date._  
  
“I remember just telling you that this  _date_  is a wasteful expenditure of time and effort,” says Mizael.  
  
“Try to enjoy it, okay? Think of it as a reconnaissance mission. You always used to like those.”  
  
Mizael sighs, more forcefully than he knows is necessary, but shakes out his own cloth napkin and places it in his lap. It's the most ridiculous sign of surrender he's ever made, but Durbe is very rarely this whimsical, and he realizes he'd rather resign himself to the visit than squander Durbe's attention.   
  
If this really had been a reconnaissance mission, Mizael wouldn't be doing a good job, because he's too busy trying to stare at Durbe without being too obvious to notice anything that's happening around him. For all the disdain he holds for these clothes, they suit Durbe's human body. The lighting in the restaurant is impractically dim, but the candle in the middle of the table casts a soft glow on Durbe's face that almost reminds Mizael of warm red light of Barian.  
  
To be honest, Mizael feels incredibly out of place, and focusing on Durbe makes him feel more centered in unfamiliar surroundings. Durbe, on the other hand, looks right at home, leafing through the menu and occasionally letting his eyes wander to observe the other patrons of the restaurant. He's always had more of a personal interest in the human world than Mizael. While Mizael doesn't quite understand it, despite his complaints, he figures that if it lets him steal a few moments of Durbe's time, he really doesn't mind.  
  
Mizael opens his own menu and reads the first two lines before giving up and asking Durbe what any of it actually means.  
  
***  
He does enjoy it, in the end. They had, apparently, tacitly agreed to avoid any stressful subjects of conversation like “How long do you think we have until the only home we've ever known is irreparably ruined” or “What do you do when one of our comrades is completely off his rocky rocker”, and it had been, surprisingly, not too hard to fill the time with idle, light-hearted chatter. Mizael had cringed at the food and missed his mouth a few times, and Durbe had tried valiantly not to laugh.  
  
After they figure out the check, Durbe says, “Why don't you let me walk you home?”  
  
Mizael raises an eyebrow. “Are you joking?” He knows they have a place on Earth—just a small apartment for worst-case scenarios—but he had assumed they were going to make it 10 feet out the door and open a portal to Barian.  
  
“No, I insist. What kind of person would I be if I let you go home alone?”  
  
( _Not a person at all,_  Mizael thinks.)  
  
There's a small smile playing on Durbe's lips, and Mizael hopes the Earth food didn't do anything funny to him, because that would significantly reduce the number of capable and trustworthy Barian lords on their side.  
  
Mizael shrugs. “Sure.” He can't make a scene about it in public, so he might as well go along with whatever Durbe is thinking.  
  
They leave the restaurant, and Durbe loops one of his arms into Mizael's. It's warm where they make contact, and it means they have to walk closer together, which, considering the night chill against Mizael's human body, is pretty nice. Nice enough that he doesn't question why they're actually walking in the direction of their Earth apartment when they could already be back home.  
  
They're at the door before Mizael turns around, crosses his arms, and asks, less irritably than he wishes he could be, “Is there a reason we're here instead of home?”  
  
The smile on Durbe's face is soft, but Mizael could swear he sees a certain mischief in the way his mouth turns up. He confirms it when Durbe brings his hands up to cup Mizael's face, and Mizael is smiling himself as he leans down to meet him.  
  
But he could swear he had heard something once-- “Doesn't human custom say no kissing until the third date?”  
  
Durbe looks comically put out for a second, and Mizael hadn't really meant to blurt it out, but Durbe's confused expression makes him decide it was completely worth it.  
  
“Is that really what you're concerned about?” They're close enough that Mizael can feel Durbe's breath on his lips, which means that he gets to inspect Durbe's definitely-not-a-pout from up close. It's adorable, and it makes him want to laugh, but instead, he grabs Durbe by the shoulders and spins them around so that he can press him up against the door of the apartment.  
  
“Of course not,” he says, with an admittedly self-satisfied smirk, before closing the distance between them entirely.


End file.
